Shadow
by AgentRusco
Summary: Mal's youth. 1st chap is study in description. 2nd chap is my amusement. 5th up! Last one for a bit.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Another fic about a crew member's early years. This is Mal. Mostly this is a study in description. I hope there will be more to come. I welcome suggestions.

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Mal padded barefoot across the stretch of bare earth in front of the ranch house. His small feet sent up tiny puffs of white dust that covered his sun-tanned feet and ankles. The sun beat down on his bare back, darkening the bronze of previous exposure. Mal wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead, simultaneously pushing back his shaggy forelock. He stopped about halfway to the weathered front steps and turned back to the dusty road from which he had come. The road was rutted deeply from past rains and wandered along down the edge of the ranch until it met up with the larger road. The road was the only thing dusty in Mal's vision. Bordering it on either side were pastures of the finest grass. This grass was presently being grazed eagerly by the finest cattle.

The short-horns of Shadow weren't a particularly huge breed of bovine, but they made good eating. If they were fed properly, as they were on the Reynolds' ranch, they would thrive and fatten up. The Reynolds' steaks were hailed as the best on Shadow, and that was saying something as the whole world specialized in the short-horns. Shadow was a relatively small world and the Reynolds' ranch was not the largest by any means, but definitely one of the most popular. It was manned by some forty-odd hands and run by Mal's mother. She did a great deal in her own right, rustled the cattle with the men as well as caring for her growing son. She oversaw every birthing, branding and slaughter. It was often said that it was because the Reynolds' ranch was run by a woman that it prospered.

Mal didn't care much for ranching. It was all he'd ever known and he longed for more. More than the smell of alfalfa hay and cow manure. More than sweating under the summer sun and shoveling snow in the winter. He wanted more than to ride his horse in the hills. He wanted the sky.

Looking back over the extent of the ranch Mal was struck by the longing once more. The sun was high and no shadows fell, but Mal felt as though he were in the dark. He turned again and headed around the side of the house instead of going up the front steps. Behind the house stood the barns. Mal headed for the largest of the three. It was where the hay was stored to feed the cattle during the cold months. As it was summertime, the barn was nearly empty. Mal shoved one of the huge doors aside and paced into the cool interior. The hay barn was massive, fully twice as tall as the two-story house, it was mainly empty space. After the hay cutting, the lifts would pile the bales to the ceiling filling the place with the sweet scent that only fresh hay gives off. Mal walked across the hard packed dirt floor of the empty barn making minute noises with his steps. He approached the side of the barn and mounted a ladder. The ladder took him up the side to a small loft area near the ceiling vents. From the loft he was able to observe the entire ranch. He had claimed the loft as his own as soon as he had discovered its existence. He felt somehow better up there, atop the world. The patchwork of the pastures spread out before him were speckled with the dark forms that were cows.

Mal had fashioned a sort of nest for himself up in the loft. It was some old saddle leather over some sacks stuffed with the sweetest smelling spring clover. After peering out the vent, Mal settled back on his mat and wriggled his shoulders a bit to find a good fit. It wasn't long before the heat and the soothing smell lulled him to sleep.

He woke as the sun was setting, casting long shadows and turning the sparse clouds to flame. It was his favorite time of day. He leaned out of the vent and breathed the cooling air. Scents of clover and grass wafted to him.


	2. Caress

He ran his fingertips along her neck, reveling in the satin softness. She made a soft noise of enjoyment and nibbled the ends of his hair.

"That's a good girl." Mal crooned. The mare snorted in response and his hand shifted to her delicate, silky ears. She leaned forward over the rail fence offering him more of her body to caress. He obliged willingly, putting both his hands to work scratching her neck and ears.

"Malcolm!" He heard his mother call from the house.

"Coming, Ma." He gave the mare a final pat and dashed off through the tufted grass.

**A/N**: _That first part was my amusement. Funny, doncha think?_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_This is the real follow-up of the first chapter. It is still missing something. A story line I think. Anyhow. I have the next chapter, just need to type it up. Are ya proud of my length?

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"Did you sleep the afternoon away, lil one?" Geoff, the ranch foreman asked Mal in his gravelly voice. It was gravelly because of the bitterstim he used to smoke with great fervor as a young man. "Again."

Mal didn't ask how Geoff could tell. He simply nodded and grinned.

"Such a little slacker." Mica leaned in and ruffled Mal's hair. He was the youngest of the hired ranch hands at fifteen, only five years older than Mal.

Mal shrugged. "My chores were done."

"Like hell!" Mica burst out, his sunburned face breaking into a huge grin.

"Seriously." Mal insisted.

"Time you got more chores then, boy." Geoff rumbled. "If yer mum'll allow it, you can mount up with us tomorrow and ride the range."

Mal's eyes lit up. Any chance to wander interested him. He'd often helped with the round ups, but riding the range was reserved for the hands. His mother had been quite clear about that. "Will you talk to my mom?" He begged, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

"I'll do it." Geoff smiled and downed his tankard of sake.

Mal loved to hang out in the ranch hands' wing of the big house. Here he heard tales of ranching long past and of lovers and (his favorite) travels.

Greg Bultice had the best traveler's tales. He had been born on a core world, a boy in a wealthy family. His father had been persuaded to oversee a new settlement on the rim, and their family had permanently relocated when Greg was twelve. He had then completed his growing up years as an overseer's brat on a backwater mining world. He had become discontent (as Mal could understand) and had stowed away aboard a freighter when he was eighteen. From there on, his tale was wrought with adventures involving near death experiences and much space travel. Mal had yet to be told how exactly Greg had ended up on Shadow and why he remained after so many years.

Mal's mother often worried that her young son would be a bother to her hired men, or that he would be adversely influenced, but neither was ever a factor. She allowed him to mingle with the men, so long as he stayed out of their way and obeyed her ultimately.

The next day Mal woke at dawn and padded downstairs to eat breakfast with his mother and all the hands that didn't have to get up earlier.

"Morning, Malcolm." His mother said cheerily.

"Hi, Ma." He rubbed his eyes and slid into his chair. Breakfast was a delightful mixture of strips of their own steak and a few precious eggs from his mother's hens.

"Geoff asked me a peculiar thing this morning, Malcolm." She said slowly. Mal's eyes lit up.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, huh. He seems to think you should have more chores." She grinned at him. "I said I could find some." Mal's face fell briefly. "But then he mentioned you riding the range with the hands."

Mal dared not speak. Dared not even look at his mother for fear of giving away his anxiety.

"I'll allow it." The boy jumped from his seat and flung his arms around his mother's neck. She hugged him back, but continued. "On the condition that you do exactly what Geoff tells you and don't wander off by yerself."

"Course, Ma." Mal's grin was wide. He was about to thank her profusely, when she shushed him.

"Eat yer breakfast, boy."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _Perhaps I'm being hard on myself, but this is not so very good. I have the ideas, but the actual writing is coming tough to me. So this is very rough and not at all final, but it is as good as it gets for a bit. And I still have more to type up. Please review with suggestions or whatever._

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Mal reined in, gazing out at the west branch herd. It was the smallest of the Reynolds' herds and Mal was in charge of the round up. One hundred and two head of Shadow's finest short horns grazed in the grassy hollow before him. Mal squinted his blue eyes against the harsh morning sun, assessing how best to get the cattle out of the gulch and moving in the appropriate direction, namely: the ranch. Finally he turned his mare and gave a few orders to the other hands.

Hans and Klaus circled around to the north while Leroy went with Hevit to the west. That left Mal with Erica on the south face. At Mal's loud whistle, the hands rode down the embankments toward the cattle. With only one place to run, the bovines headed east along the flats toward the Reynolds' Ranch.

As the grass faded to bare earth, the hooves of the cattle churned it to billowing dust. Mal yanked out his kerchief and affixed it over his nose and mouth, noting each of the others do so as well. He glanced over at Erica, seeing only her dark eyes above the red kerchief. He smiled broadly, forgetting that his smile was hidden.

Suddenly, a large calf bolted from the herd. Mal's mare was quicker than Mal and nearly unseated him as she turned to dash after the runaway. Mal quickly regained his seat and leaned forward, working with his mount.

She was his favorite cow horse. She had proven herself one of the most nimble and had worked cattle for longer than Mal had. She was a sleek bay and as such sported a jet black mane and tail. He legs were also satiny black fading to a dark reddish chestnut that covered the rest of her body. Her delicate nose was black and an even, white blaze ran down the length of her face. As Mal well knew she was very ornery and would pull any number of tricks to catch her rider off guard. But when it came down to cattle, she didn't mess around.

She focused on the stray with singular vision. Mal was just so much baggage on her back for all the work he did. She caught up with the calf in a few long strides and shouldered it bodily back toward the herd. The calf got the idea and dashed back to the bovine midst.

Mal patted the mare's dusty neck and she nickered a response and promptly kicked up her heels. Mal was prepared and rode the half-hearted buck. They fell back into pace with Erica.

The drive took much of the day as the increasingly anxious cattle kept breaking away. They were hungry and tired. Mal could understand as he was feeling exactly the same way. The six cow hands were as covered in dust and sweat as their mounts and the cattle.

It was sunset when the ranch came into view and quite dark by the time the cattle were properly enclosed in pasture.

Mal dismounted stiffly and stretched, running his fingers through his dusty hair. His mare nudged him with her nose and nipped at his shirt.

"Hey now!" he brushed her away and began to untack. After the saddle was properly stored, he wiped the mare down with a dry sack, bringing some shine back into her coat. After she was freed from most of the dust and sweat, Mal led the mare to a paddock and released her to have a good roll and feed.

Mal headed to the ranch house, walking the darkened path confidently. As always after a hard day's work, the seventeen year-old felt a pang of longing for something more. He loved Shadow, loved the cattle and the horses and the hands. Loved his mother. But he couldn't stop the longing. Longing for the stars.

Unbeknownst to his mother, Mal had been scanning the cortex for ads. He was looking for a ship that might want crewmen. A ship that would be in the area. Mal knew the searches would distress his mother, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know what would happen if he found what he was looking for.

This night Mal found it. He sat and stared for a good long while, toweling newly washed hair. The ad was simple: a freighter was shipping a cargo of live beef from Shadow and wanted an experience cowhand to accompany them. Mal glanced at the schedule. It coincided so perfectly with the planed market day that Mal wondered if they weren't taking Reynolds' beef. The date was only a few weeks away. It would be so easy to herd the cattle into town and hire out. So easy except the part about leaving his mother. Mal sighed and turned off the screen.

Mal was still unsure exactly how he wanted to proceed, but decided to make preparations. He did so surreptitiously, packing things of value or importance into his saddle bags. He avoided people for the most part, even Erica.

Mal, Geoff, and six other hands escorted the 200 head of short-horns to the City Center Port. Mal was nervous the whole way. He hadn't said anything to his mother, nothing more than a simply good-bye in a 'see you tonight' kind of way. His moodiness did not go unnoticed. As soon as they had the cattle penned in the port paddocks, Geoff drew Mal aside.

"What's up with you, kid?"

Mal feigned ignorance. "Whadaya mean?" He looked the foreman in the eyes.

Geoff casually cuffed Mal on the side of his head.

"Hey!" Mal glared at him.

"Don't get yer dander up, Mal." Geoff folded his arms. "Don't you dare, ever play me for a fool. You know by now it ain't so." He drawled. "Yer off, I can see that. This teeny planet can't hold you." He lowered his voice and leaned toward Mal. "Yer mum'll be sore, y'know."

Mal lowered his gaze.

"I see you understand. Good. That guilt'll do ya well. See, I'm not gonna stop ya. I want you to find a life that's fit fer you. Just remember to send yer mum and me a wave now and again." He lay a weathered hand on the boy's shoulder.

Mal nodded, fighting tears. He couldn't cry now, not at his age, not at this crucial point. He held out his hand to Geoff and shook hard. Then he turned to his saddle bags and walked away, straight-backed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Last of this story for a bit. I need to go back and revamp the whole string. Needs more dialogue and whatnot._

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The _Shadow Lady_ was a bulky freighter and the cargo bay was heavily modified to hold the two hundred cows. Mal approached the captain hesitantly, still not sure if he was actually going through with is plan.

He was welcomed aboard very warmly and promised a decent sum when the cattle were delivered.

Mal had never before been out of Shadow's atmo. He'd skimmed along in hovercraft and atmo shuttles, but the Black was so much different. The ship's gravity kept his orientation, but the spackled stars seemed to go on forever and gave a slight feeling of vertigo. It was cold out there; even the life support couldn't mask that. So vast and empty, but for Mal, full of opportunity.

Mal tended the tightly packed animals as best he knew how. He was actually told to sleep in a raised platform in the cargo bay so as to keep a close eye. So Mal's bunk was not far from the makeshift corral and therefore never out of smell or sound of the animals. Mal force himself not to mind. He'd lived around cattle all his life and being this close for a mere week couldn't possibly be a problem.

The cattle were lethargic and ate only sparingly and without vigor. As the week progress, Mal noticed that they were getting not only thinner, but also jumpier.

Mal was a smart boy and it didn't take him long to realize that transportation of live stock was illegal without a great fee. The stock was also greatly desired by many more sordid shippers.

Five days into the trip, the Lady was attacked by a pirate vessel. Mal had no idea what was going on at the time, but was later filled in that the rouge vessel hailed them and demanded their cargo. Captain Jorg was unwilling to comply and ordered evasive maneuvers. Mal was shaken out of his bunk by one such maneuver. The entire ship shuddered under a near miss and the cattle stared wide eyed at him. It wasn't long before they began to panic under the heavy fire and sudden course changes. Mal tried his best to keep the short horns calm, but he was helpless to do anything while they milled about.

Mal knew what was coming. He had seen stampedes before. He knew how much destruction was left in the wake of two hundred cattle. But he saw that there could be no wake in this situation. He dashed up the steps to the bridge.

"Captain Jorg, the cattle, they're spookin'." He gasped. "We gotta stop."

"We can't stop. Get back down there and do what I'm paying you for."

Mal left obediently, but with a sinking feeling in his gut. He did not descend all the way into the cargo bay, instead electing to watch helplessly from the upper balcony.

With nowhere the run, the terrified cattle were milling about and jamming each other against the rough pen. It wouldn't be long, Mal knew, before they panicked completely and crashed through the railings. The ship shuddered again and Mal watched in horror as the cattle stampeded and crashed through the planks. Like a tidal wave, they crashed en mass against the side of the ship and many went down, to be churned beneath hundreds of hooves. Mal felt sick and helpless as he watched half the herd kill itself against the metal. He sank to his knees and tried not to hear the bellows of pain and fear. Tried not to smell the blood. Tried not to think about the ruined beef. His ruined job.

The brush with the pirates proved a brush indeed, but more than half the herd was dead or badly injured from the stampede. Mal was generously chewed out for neglecting his duty.

"Can't do nothin' bout a stampede." He defended himself, but the captain would have none of it.

"It's comin' outta yer pay."

For the remaining two days of the trip, it was up to Mal to clean up the mess of destroyed cattle. One of the other young crewmen helped him move the carcasses to the airlock and release them into space. But the smell of death would not leave. The stains from blood remained on the deck. Mal was more than happy to leave the ship when they touched down. He wasn't happy that his wages were half of what was promised, but he left as quickly as possible.

The world the Lady had delivered to was Garion, a thriving world. Mal was amazed at the level of technology in frequent use. On Shadow, things were limited, but generally available. Here and Garion, glidewalks lined the streets upon which hovercraft moved.


End file.
